


Beggar's Ride

by Viridian5



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Christmas, Crack Fic, M/M, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-11-27
Updated: 1998-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watch what you wish for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beggar's Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by the justified and righteous Feklar. Thanks to Nonie for finding the typo I missed.
> 
> I came up with the central idea, but Te provided the cause...  
> Daddy793: Hey, Christmas wishes. It's an absurd premise, and the most normal thing for you to do is _keep_ it absurd.  
> Viridian5: :::smirking over Krycekian Christmas miracles:::  
> Daddy793: They're a strange thing. A scary thing. But damned entertaining...

Another merry Christmas to me. I had Mulder locked in a storeroom with me, but the stupid bastard refused to take the situation in the direction where it _should_ go. Gorgeous ass or no, someday he'd push me too far.

Being forced into a small space had made us both touchier than usual. Not knowing how we'd get out made it worse. The room had no windows, with the only light being provided by a dim, ancient bulb hanging from the high ceiling. The bastards had fused the lock shut with a welding torch, so I couldn't pick the damn thing. They'd also disarmed both of us before tossing us in. In Mulder's case, "disarming" included confiscating his cell phone.

Mulder continued blathering about my traitorous nature until I became thoroughly disgusted and said, "Oh, sure, Mulder. This was all part of my fiendish master plan. I like nothing better than getting locked in a small space with you when you're in a slap-happy mood."

That cooled him down a bit, but then he started to sulk. Sure, that thing he did with his lush bottom lip when he sulked was fun to watch, but a sulky Mulder was only marginally better company than an angry, lashing out one. God hated me.

No wonder all those head injuries never did any lasting damage. The man had a skull like a brick. Mr. Psychology never had a fucking clue about me.

I really wished he'd wise up. Aw, hell, no chance of that one. "Christ, Mulder, I really wish you could understand me better some--" Oh, fuck, I just said that out loud didn't I? Shit! I never could keep my damned mouth shut. 

Even in the dimness I saw confusion flow over his face before he went utterly blank. "Krycek, I--"

Suddenly, I could feel my left arm. At first I thought it was another phantom experience, but it wasn't the same. I closed my eyes to concentrate on it. It certainly felt like I had the arm back, but it refused to respond when I tried to flex the fingers. Actually, the right arm refused to respond to commands either. What the hell was going on?

I could see, but I could swear my eyes were closed. And I saw-- myself? It certainly looked like the face I saw in the mirror. I should have seen his, topped off with the stupidest looking winter stocking cap ever created.

"Krycek," Mulder said, and I could swear I felt his panicked voice vibrating through the skull and flesh of my head as if I said the words myself, "I can't see! And what the hell happened to my arm?"

Then the voices started, flooding me in confusion. Actually, it was only one voice, but it spoke in tandem with itself on four different simultaneous lines of thought, and so quickly I couldn't make out anything more than a babble. A blast of terror/wonder ran me over, followed by a sudden buckling down to something more analytical and machine-like, trying to understand what had happened and why.

I think I opened my eyes, because I felt Mulder's relief. I felt my arms moving slowly and my eyes focusing on them, but they weren't mine: they were Mulder's. He must have been watching himself through my eyes. I knew now what had happened to us. I was experiencing his thoughts, feelings, and body, while he experienced mine. I even felt his cold, a burning in eyes, nose, and scratchy, raw throat.

I just didn't know why.

I could briefly make out Mulder's quicksilver, polyphonic thought lines well enough to hear him consider and reject several possibilities. Things were bad indeed if the prospect that made the most sense involved leprechauns.

I felt one of his thought lines ruefully agree. _...I don't even believe in leprechauns [too silly even for me], and it's the wrong season anyway; what a world; this would be fascinating if it were happening to someone else and not me, us, now; [Conspiracy plot or preternatural occurrence? How could science possibly explain this one?] I wonder what's going on [How do we make it stop?]..._

"Before this happened..." He stopped a moment, no doubt confused by not being able to feel his voice or his tongue. "I was going to say I wished I understood what you were thinking too."

So we had wished the same thing simultaneously. Maybe that had something to do with it, but who knew for sure? "So why am I experiencing you right now?" I asked. Not that I had never felt any curiosity in that direction. And it was fucking strange to speak without getting more than a vague feeling of my own mouth moving.

He didn't answer me in words, but I felt his thoughts twist and churn. _...Why bother? No one could understand me; no one would want to anyway [Everyone leaves, even when they actually stay in body. :::image of Scully, colder than human, hating and resenting me/sound of Mom's dead voice on the phone telling me not to visit for the holiday since she didn't want to deal with me; "Sometimes I can't help thinking you're not my son.":::]; I don't deserve it or make sense anyway //pain// [I have nowhere to go even if I did get out of here]; what a fucking joke; how much is Alex hearing of this? Oh, shit, how much is he hearing of this? //terror/hope/wonder/terror//..._ Then I couldn't make out much at all, as Mulder quieted his mind a bit.

Not that I minded much. That last blast had hit me like a punch to the gut. I couldn't believe the misery I'd just experienced. I wished--aw, hell, I'd better not start that up again. I felt the urge to comfort him.

He lightened up a bit, with a faint ray of thanks. That's right; he could probably hear my thoughts too. Oh, shit. I didn't want anyone to know me that well.

"I'll try not to listen, then."

"Fuck you, Mulder."

"You'd like that... wouldn't you? You have to be kidding me." It was so damned weird listening to him talk without being able to look at him. I knew he felt the same about me right now.

I sighed. "Why did you think I never fought back?"

"I tried not to think about it. Your... arm and the straps for your prosthesis... do they hurt like this all the time?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, but you get used to the pain." But you understood that, didn't you? I felt his head nod.

"I'm sorry."

And he truly was.

"Of course I am," he said.

It would have meant more if he didn't take responsibility and guilt for so many things, things that weren't his fault as well as things that were. Sometimes I wondered how deep his masochism ran, how much he enjoyed his own pain.

"Not very. Could you adjust the straps a bit? I think they're chafing more than they have to."

I couldn't resist the urge to let him suffer a bit with them. After all, I had to deal with it every damned day. "Oh, I don't know..."

"Krycek..."

"Nope." His hand closed into a fist and punched his own right arm, hard. It hurt like hell. I felt the grin on his face. Cute, but what kind of wussy boy did he think I was? Hell if he'd win that way. "Suffer, you bastard."

He somehow gathered enough control of his body to make an uncoordinated lunge for me, determined to adjust the prosthesis himself. The moment of contact couldn't be described. I experienced my own body heat and the slide of leather under his hands even as I vaguely felt his hands on my chest. It felt so damned good from both sides, and the awareness of that doubled pleasure only increased it more. I could barely think. Mulder had gone instantly hard, and his groan seemed to vibrate at the bottom of my throat.

Almost as amazing was the knowledge that Mulder had wanted me since he'd first met me, had been attracted by my mind and body from the beginning. It had made my betrayal all the worse, though not completely unexpected to him, who had been betrayed by almost everyone he'd ever known. None of that experience made his anger any easier for him to bear.

Now, his lust warmed me, but his affection stunned me. They fed my own.

"Yeah, stupid of me, huh? I always liked talking to you, Krycek, even when I wanted to throw you through a wall. And you're so damned beautiful. It doesn't make a difference what happened with your arm."

Damn, he had seen deep. "Easy for you to say."

"I'm living with it right now." He sighed, and I felt it. "I don't know why the hell you'd want me..." he said.

Something perverse in me made me ask, "What about your father and the betrayals?" I could just see us doing this, then him turning on me once the lust cleared. I wouldn't be able to bear that.

"If I did that to you, just shoot me. This will sound so stupid, and I'm not sure if I can even say it right..."

He didn't have to. His thoughts cleared for me as he struggled to order his thinking to put it into words. More than anyone else, even Scully, I'd stayed with him and refused to ridicule him for what he believed. He'd come to see my unpredictability as one of the predictable things in his life, and he felt that he needed some predictability somewhere. I couldn't argue with him there.

His thoughts shocked me, but they were a pleasant shock. "I know," I said.

"You know," he answered with a kind of wondering happiness.

What came next was confused, but no less intense for it. I couldn't know which of us ended up on the bottom or who did what exactly, but I would never forget how it felt. The slide of body against body, even through all the layers of confining winter clothing, drove us insane. We kissed almost mindlessly in a tangle of tongues and warm skin. I gloried in the feeling of his two hands stroking and gripping the back of what had to be my jacket even as I felt the caresses along my back. We were each the toucher and the touched simultaneously.

Trapped in one another's bodies, we couldn't coordinate ourselves well enough to take our clothing off; we had no finesse. It didn't matter. I felt what he felt, and he felt what I felt. There were no wrong moves. Orgasm pulled us down like an undertow, and it seemed to go on forever, with each of us feeding the other back, lengthening and intensifying the experience

We came to slumped together, both shivering and sweating like racehorses who'd just finished the prize-winning run. I was myself again, anchored in my own body and alone in my head, though I still felt the lingering echoes of Mulder's contentment and affection. I already missed him a bit.

We were both sticky messes, and we'd probably have to toss the jeans and underwear. Mulder sleepily stripped those off us and wrapped us in his coat. They wouldn't be comfortable when they dried, but at least they wouldn't dry with us stuck in them.

I still didn't know how this had happened to begin with. I couldn't think of Christmas miracles without smirking, but I certainly couldn't argue with the results.

"Maybe we can find something in these boxes to help us get out," Mulder said against my neck. The feeling of stubble rubbing against my skin made me shiver.

I couldn't help entertaining thoughts of the bastards coming back and me clubbing them with my prosthesis, but none of that helped us now. "Maybe. Does Scully know you're here?"

"She's off visiting her brother for the holiday. She doesn't have a clue."

"Figures. So it sounds like we'll be checking the boxes." The heat of his slight fever burned into my skin, and I felt him getting hard against me again. "But could we clean one another up a bit first?"

He answered with a kiss. Merry Christmas to me after all.

 

### End


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